Personal Ads
by theSilence
Summary: AU. 3+4. Quatre's POV. Quatre posts a personal ad in the local newspaper and gets a response.


Personal Ads  


* * *

  
  
If writing an ad for the local newspaper is the stupidest thing anyone could do, then responding to one comes right in second. So, I guess that would make me the stupidest man on Earth. I did both.   
  
In an act of desperation to find that "special someone," I thought I would try what it was like to post an ad in the newspaper. So I put in the usual crap that anyone places in an ad. Single. White male. 23. 5'6". Looking for someone to love and to love me in return. Oh, and did I forget to mention gay? That too.   
  
Well, after that, I actually looked in the paper to see what my ad looked like and to see if they screwed anything up changing me from a single white male into a swinging wacky monkey. That's when another ad caught my eye.   
  
**   
  


Young Male Wanted   
  
SWM. Age 37. Seeking young SWM, between the ages of 14-24. Kinky and playful, wants the same.   
  


**   
  
My initial thought was 'wow…a pedophile…' It gave me the heebie-jeebies. But being as desperate as I am, I reached over to the phone and dialed in the number. And that's when I got my very first phone call, regarding the ad.   
  
"Hello?" I never understood why people made it some sort of tradition to answer the phone with the word "hello" as if you were asking a question.   
  
"Hello. I was skimming through the personal ads and…is this 'Loving Comfort?'" his voice was hushed for some reason.   
  
"Yeah, that's me." I refrained from using a hushed voice myself, as I was tempted to do. For some reason, if one person whispers to someone that someone tends to whisper in response. This just tells you how much time I have on my hands to notice such things. "Can I help you?"   
  
"Well…I was wondering…would you like to meet with me somewhere?"   
  
"Sure. That's why I put up that ad."   
  
The guy chuckled. "Right. Um, there's a coffee shop on Third and Stokes. Do you know where that is?"   
  
"It's a Starbucks right?" Every other coffee shop was a Starbucks nowadays so it seemed like the right thing to assume. "Yeah, I know where that is."   
  
"Great. I'll meet you there tonight at let's say…six?" Was he really asking me if six was a good time for me or is this his way of checking his mental schedule to see if six was in fact an open time slot? "I'll be wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck."   
  
"All right. I'll be wearing khakis and a white shirt. By the way, just in case there's five other guys in the same outfit, what's your name?" Hey, it could happen. It's New York.   
  
"Trowa. Trowa Barton. And you?"   
  
"Quatre Raberba Winner."   
  
"All right, Quatre. Until tonight."   
  
"Until tonight."   
  
And that was it. I had a date for tonight.   
  
But then a thought struck me. Was this really a good idea? What if Trowa Barton was some psychopath? What if he was some sixty-year old man trying to get his kicks whose teeth fell out every other ten minutes? The very thought of a comb over made me shudder. Thank God that my parents were blessed with full heads of hair. Maybe I should call back and cancel with the guy, telling him that it was a mistake to post the ad and plan for that date. And that's when I realized I never got his number. Dang.   
  
I sighed and began to prepare myself for what was to come.   
  
While in the shower, I began thinking about why in heck I haven't been able to find anyone. I'm not all that bad looking. In fact, some people would consider me to be handsome. Maybe even gorgeous. 5'6" may not be the ideal height of many males but at least I'm taller than people who are 5'5". Big blues eyes and a mop of blonde hair that I've given up on trying to style since nothing makes my hair stay in place are, I'd like to think, my most attractive points, although my sister would argue it to be my baby face. At age 23, I get carded every so often but enough to make it a pain in the ass. I'm not the strongest man on Earth; in fact, I probably look lanky to most people. But just because I'm petite doesn't mean I don't have muscles, cause I do. I've worked hard for my abs, thank you very much.   
  
5:45 swung around letting me know that it was time to high tail it out of my apartment and on to the streets where I'll be stepped on more than once. 6:00 and I was stepping through the coffee shop where the scent of coffee beans and caramel drifted to my nose. 6:05 and I was sipping on a Venti Caramel Macchiatto with extra caramel.   
  
Moments later, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around a met with a pair of broad shoulders. I looked higher a met with a long slender neck and higher more to meet with a pair of striking green eyes. Wow.   
  
"Hello." The man looked over my clothing before holding out his hand to shake mine. "You must be Quatre."   
  
I looked from his blue jeans to his black turtleneck and back to his eyes. I nodded. "Trowa, I presume?" I took a hold of his hand and gave it a nice firm shake.   
  
He merely nodded. "So…ummm…are you hungry?"   
  
"Yeah, a little." I shrugged. "Do you have a place in mind?"   
  
"Yeah. I made reservations at Bistro. Is that all right with you?"   
  
Man, this guy seemed really nervous. Was it really necessary to ask me permission for everything? At least he's polite. "Sure. Bistro sounds fine."   
  
Trowa nodded again and led the way out.   
  
Walking side by side with Trowa gave me a chance to study his profile. He was a tall guy, probably 6'3" or 6'4". He had hair the color of chestnuts and his bangs covered one of his emerald eyes. And from what I could tell, this boy was definitely not lanky. Nor was he one of those macho men that look like they've been on steroids the moment they were born. He was just…right. Physically, I mean.   
  
"So, Trowa," I started, trying to strike up a conversation. "How old are you?"   
  
He looked down at me. "24."   
  
"That's…great." Trowa went back into his own little world. I began wondering if this was such a good idea. Trowa didn't seem like he was going to open up to me anytime soon. Sure we just met but he could put a little oomph into the conversation area.   
  
We soon made it to Bistro where our table was all set and ready for us. After we ordered our drinks and our food, it was back to the silence. What fun.   
  
"Listen Quatre," Oh no. He's gonna bail on me. Or maybe he's gonna tell me this was all some dare his friend put him up to. "I've never done this before."   
  
"Done what?" Gone out to dinner or the whole dating thing?   
  
"I've never replied to an ad before. I probably never have even looked at the personal ads before today. I guess I'm just a little nervous." Only a little? "To be honest, I was really unsure of what to expect. After I called, I began to wonder if you were some 70 year old man trying to get his kicks." Sounds familiar. "So I apologize if I'm acting a little weird or if I space out on you."   
  
"That's okay. To be honest with you, I thought you might be some psychopath. I've never posted an ad in the personals before. I guess I just did it on a whim. This is actually the first date I've had in a while." More like two years. "I bet my sister would be glad to see that I'm finally out of my apartment."   
  
"You have a sister?"   
  
"Yeah. She's older than me. A real pain in the neck sometimes."   
  
"I think it's in their job description to do just that. My sister always nags me about getting out too."   
  
And that's where it started. First we talked about our families, then our schooling, which led to our professions. I learned that Trowa Barton was an artist. When I asked 'what kind?' he chuckled and said 'all kinds.' Trowa was a photographer, sculptor, painter, drawer, anything but a performing artist and poet. He said 'I'm not real good with words but I can show you how I feel with my art.' Trowa learned that I am a musician straight from Julliard. When he asked 'what instrument' I replied with a chuckled and said 'all instruments.' Okay. Maybe not all but I do know how to play a number of them. Piano, flute, clarinet, guitar, percussion, saxophone, trumpet, cello, and best of all and my personal favorite, the violin. By this time, we had finished our meals and Trowa had already paid the check and now we were sitting in the grass at a park not too far from my place.   
  
"It's really beautiful out tonight." I commented, looking up at the stars.   
  
"Yeah…"   
  
I guess he drifted back into his own world again and I decided to drift into my own world where a sea of thoughts awaited contemplation. This date didn't go as horribly as I thought it would and I'm fairly sure that Trowa doesn't have a comb over. In fact, he's a pretty nice guy. I just hoped that he thought the same thing about me. Maybe we could do this again some time.   
  
"Quatre, I was thinkin-" Trowa was cut off by the sprinkler system turning on. Unfortunately for us, we just happened to sit next to a sprinkler head which gave us the end result of soggy clothes and soggy hair. Not to mention the shivers from here to Kalamazoo.   
  
"Come on." I said, squeezing excess water out of my shirt. "My place isn't too far from here. We can dry up there."   
  
Trowa nodded and we began to walk as fast as we could to get out of the cold. We got to my apartment where I was suddenly thankful that I grew up learning that cleanliness is a virtue. I went to retrieve some towels and when I came back, Trowa was looking around the place in awe.   
  
"Wow. Some apartment." Trowa said. "I wish I could have found something this big." I tossed a towel to him.   
  
"It's a three bedroom apartment but I only use two of them. The other's kinda like a storage room. I wouldn't mind putting up some decorations around the place someday. It's kinda bare."   
  
"Maybe I could paint something for you." Trowa offered, turning his attention back at me.   
  
"Maybe…" I looked right back at him and I swear, I know this is cheesy, I felt some sort of connection with him. But then again, it could have been gas.   
  
Trowa smiled and looked at something behind me. "Oh my gosh, is that the right time?"   
  
I glanced over my shoulder and saw that it was approaching midnight. "Yeah it is. Wow…time flew."   
  
"I'll say. I have to get to work early tomorrow. But maybe we could do this again some time."   
  
"Sure. That'd be great." If he weren't in the room, I'd be doing my happy dance. I led him to the door and he handed me his towel.   
  
"Well, I guess I'll give you a call some time." Trowa smiled again and added "Soon."   
  
"Until then."   
  
He nodded and turned to leave. I watched him move down the hall only to spin right back around and walk right up to me. He cradled my head in his hands and slowly brought his lips upon mine. So this was what heaven felt like. I won't explain it to you. You'll just have to wait until you find your own heaven. Trowa pulled away as another smile crept up on his face, only this time it was bigger and more dazzling.   
  
"Until then." And with that, he left. 

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Author's Notes/Disclaimer: I don't own Trowa or Quatre but I do own a half eaten bowl of ice cream. Yum yum.  
  
I think that my tenses alter from past to present constantly throughtout the story and I apologize if this disturbs you. I noticed that as the story continued on, Quatre's personal thoughts are cut down a bit than from how many thoughts there were in the beginning. What else? Hmmm....Oh yeah. This story was a class assignment I did a while ago and I thought 'Hey? Why not make it into a Trowa/Quatre story.' So that's what I did. I made a few alterations here and there to make it about them but the story itself was not changed a bit. I'm so proud. So if you manage to catch the name David or Jared in here, just pretend that David is Trowa and Jared is Quatre. Yah.  
  
Oh yeah. One more thing. I have no idea if there should be more to this or not. Who knows? It might be the next 50 chapter story in my life for life. Ha. Gosh, I hope not. 


End file.
